Daverion walked through the city at an unhurried pace.
As he advanced, the atmosphere subtly shifted. The streets grew more crowded, and the air filled with voices layered one over another. Conversations overlapped, fragments of excitement and anticipation drifting freely.
"The palace event is this weekend…"
"They say even nobles from distant regions will attend."
"Have you seen the banners? They're everywhere."
Proclamations echoed from raised platforms. Heralds stood tall, their voices amplified by arcane devices, announcing the upcoming event with practiced fervor. Colorful propaganda adorned walls and pillars, fluttering gently in the breeze.
Daverion listened without particular interest, his gaze calm, almost distant.
Soon, the towering structure of the Place of Scholars rose before him.
It was an immense library—ancient, dignified, and vast—stretching upward two, perhaps four floors, its architecture blending stone and old magic. Massive columns supported arched ceilings, and engraved runes ran along the walls like veins of knowledge etched into the building itself. The air carried the scent of parchment, ink, and dust aged by centuries.
Only scholars were permitted entry.
Guards stood at the entrance, their expressions stern. Yet when Daverion approached, they instinctively straightened. No one stopped him.
Instead, they greeted him with respect.
As he entered, murmurs followed.
"Who is he?"
"Look at his bearing…"
"He must be a great scholar."
Daverion paid no attention.
Inside, the library felt alive. Rows upon rows of towering shelves stretched endlessly, filled with volumes of history, cultivation, philosophy, and forbidden knowledge. Scholars moved quietly between them, absorbed in study.
At the reception desk stood a man with a polite smile—polite only to those who radiated status and power. Nearby, a young woman carefully arranged books on a shelf, her movements gentle and precise.
Daverion wandered toward the history section, scanning spines and reading brief summaries, searching for something interesting to pass the time.
As he did, the young woman approached.
She had a delicate, intellectual beauty, glasses resting lightly on her nose, a book in her hands she was about to shelve. This was Valeria, one of the librarians responsible for maintaining order among the countless volumes.
Noticing Daverion's quiet deliberation, she spoke softly.
"What book are you looking for?"
Daverion raised his head and glanced to his right.
"I'm not sure yet."
Valeria thought for a moment, then her eyes lit up.
"How about reading about the Seven Sovereigns?" she said, enthusiasm slipping into her voice. "This book talks about when they emerged, their names, brief descriptions, rankings of power—everything."
As she spoke, her tone carried reverence, admiration, almost devotion.
Nearby, a group of young scholars sat studying. They frequented this section often, absorbed in history. Though they tried to remain focused, Valeria's words drew part of their attention.
Then she continued.
"The Fifth Sovereign is the greatest of them all. Not only for her beauty, but because she's a true genius. They say the Fourth is a once-in-a-millennium prodigy, but I don't think he compares. Even the first two don't—they're only superior because they came earlier."
Silence fell.
For the young scholars, this was nothing short of blasphemy.
Pages stopped turning. Hearts were wounded.
One girl, however, nodded subtly, agreeing more and more with every word Valeria spoke.
The others were indignant.
A chubby boy slammed his book shut.
"How can you compare the First to the Fifth?" he shouted, chest rising and falling rapidly. "That's like comparing a dragon to a worm!"
A mischievous-looking young man stepped forward, ignoring the chubby boy entirely, as if he were beneath notice.
"Little girl," he said to Valeria, "don't be ignorant."
He turned his gaze proudly.
"How could anyone compare them to the Fourth? Haven't you heard the tales? His grace, his power, his achievements!"
A younger girl arrived, seemingly his sister.
"The Fourth is the best," she declared confidently. "And he's the most handsome."
At those words, Daverion glanced at her—and gave a small nod of approval.
Seeing that, the siblings felt as though they had found a kindred spirit.
Acceptance bloomed instantly.
Judging by Daverion's composed demeanor, they spoke with newfound respect.
"Big brother," they said, "you don't seem like an insect. You look knowledgeable."
Daverion scratched the bridge of his nose casually.
"Naturally," he replied. "The Fourth has no equal."
He spoke as if stating an unquestionable truth, his confidence bordering on alarming.
The siblings beamed with happiness.
Before they could say more, Valeria could no longer remain silent.
"You haven't even seen him!" she snapped. "How do you know he's handsome?"
She glared at them all.
"The Fifth is the best—and the most beautiful!"
Another girl joined in.
"That's right! The Fifth wouldn't even dignify the Fourth with a glance."
The sister retorted, "Haven't you read the texts? They're recited all over the world—his beauty is always emphasized!"
Valeria crossed her arms, confident.
"He wrote those himself. Isn't it well known that he enjoys writing about himself?"
At that moment, Daverion felt tempted to reveal his true face.
Even now, his appearance was the result of restraint.
My true visage would captivate even goddesses, he thought, amused.
He was only entertaining himself.
The youths were amusing.
Just to stir trouble, Daverion spoke again before the siblings could respond.
"Leave her be," he said, laughing softly. "She's already lost her way."
He chuckled.
Before anyone could retaliate, an older youth approached, looking down on the juniors.
"The Seventh Sovereign created an unprecedented martial art," he declared. "Innovative not just in combat, but in many other fields."
"He even created anime," he added dreamily. "He brought happiness to countless people."
Lost in thought, his face took on a foolish expression.
Seeing that look, the others fell silent.
Daverion decided it was best to end things before chaos erupted.
As the chubby boy prepared to speak, Daverion interrupted calmly.
"I'll read about the Yu Dynasty," he said. "If I'm not mistaken, it's in another section."
He turned and left, abandoning the group.
They stood stunned for a moment—then resumed their argument until their throats grew dry and exhaustion overtook them.
Eventually, they dispersed.
Daverion paused briefly, watching them go.
"Vanity," he murmured. "All is vanity."
Then, with a faint smile—
"But so what? Why not enjoy small moments? Why not feel happiness, if one can?"
And with that thought lingering in the quiet air of the library, he continued on his way.